


maybe tomorrow is a better day

by monkkeyslut



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 03:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1013377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monkkeyslut/pseuds/monkkeyslut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calypso is bitter sadness and endless hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe tomorrow is a better day

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished House of Hades and I'm still not really sure how I'm alive because it was a roller coaster of feels. The Leo/Calypso stuff though? Golden.

 

 

The wind whispers to her, the water tugs at her, and the gods laugh at her.

Calypso is eternal, this island is eternal; her hope, however, dwindles.

* * *

 

The first time she attempts to leave Ogygia she is a mess of rage and torment and bitter sadness, moving through the waves and screeching at the gods. _How could I not have chosen him?_ She shrieks, water filling her lungs, choking but not killing, _they are my family, he is my father!_ Her arms feel limp, electricity and magic pushing her back toward shore. _Please!_

She wakes on the shores several days later, and does not try again for a thousand years.

* * *

 

Percy Jackson smiles at her, eyes crinkling as the sun shines behind her. His smile is soft and warm, like the sand after a warm day. Calypso has the fleeting feeling that perhaps this hero will stay with her, that they will live long and happily on her island, without a care in the world. But Kronos stirs thousands of miles away; she can feel it in her bones, the same way she felt her muscles ache when the world was lifted off the shoulders of her father, if only for a short time (she yearns to reach out, twirl her finger around the grey strands of Percy Jackson’s hair, tug him close to her and--) but Percy is needed elsewhere, to fight a war, and Calypso cannot leave.

(there is a girl, too, and isn’t there always? annabeth, percy jackson calls her, with stars in his eyes, and calypso cannot compete with true, proper love like that)

Her hero leaves, eventually. Just like the others, and just like the ones that will come after him.

* * *

 

 “Why?” She asked Hephaestus once, hours after Percy Jackson has left her island. “Why is this my curse?”

The god turns to her, millennia of sadness in his eyes when he says, “Because you cared.”

( _cared for her family, for her father, for these awful, wonderful heroes—_ and look where caring has gotten her)

* * *

 

Calypso feels it the day Kronos is scattered to the wind; feels the earth shift beneath her feet, beginning to stir, to rise. She closes her eyes and waits for the magic of her island to be lifted. She waits for several days, several weeks. Calypso waits until she can wait no longer and curses everyone—the gods, the heroes, her father and her uncles and Annabeth. Percy Jackson’s promise has fallen on deaf ears and has been unfulfilled and Calypso hates him so entirely for it—almost as much as she loves him.

Calypso knows that nothing has changed, that nothing will ever change, and she goes back to the motions of the day; caring for her garden and her island and wondering when her next hero will come.

* * *

 

It feels like a million years before there is another (and there is always another—another hero, another love, another curse). A million years of waiting, of anxiety and dread and endless hope.

Leo Valdez crashes— _literally crashes—_ onto Ogygia, breaking her dinner table and looking unremarkable. Calypso wonders if this is the gods’ final, cruel joke at the end of the world, sending her this scrap of a demigod, this mouthy, skinny thing.

The boat will not appear, and she decides that she hates everything—starting with Leo.

He is snarky and messy and always, _always_ moving, which gets on her nerves more than anything. Calypso understands that demigods are constantly in motion, and that their mind veers from one subject to another but she has never seen one who tinkers with _everything._ He touches all of her things and asks her silly questions and Calypso is tempted to pull out her hair and drown herself in the sea, but it would do nothing good, so she settles for ignoring him.

And then, one day he gives her a small, tentative smile as she places a plate of food before him, and Calypso’s heart speeds up.

* * *

 

“Aw,” Leo crows as she sticks her tongue out at him, “you do care! Thanks for the food!”

“I…” Calypso blushes fiercley, turning away from him. “I don’t need you to die on my island, so eat and rest.”

Leo grins something awful at her. Calypso swallows and stalks away.

* * *

 

He is unlike any of the others, which is why Calypso thinks that this hero might be different. Her heart did not immediately race when she met him; her eyes were only drawn to his dirty hands and scraped face. There was nothing pleasant or remarkable to Leo—he was not Percy Jackson or Odysseus, and the only thing he seemed to yearn for was his ship. For a while, it seems as though the gods had taken pity on her. Leo talks about his mother and his friends, tells her that Percy and his Annabeth are in Tartarus, and Calypso feels the familiar sting of love lost, but more than that she feels sad for them—nobody survives Tartarus.

Calypso has grease on her fingers and her face, her hair is in disarray and her clothing is so strange to her, but Leo looks at her twice like she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and even if it was only twice, Calypso feels the familiar lurch in her belly, the warmth on her cheeks. _Sunburn,_ she reasons, but somewhere Aphrodite laughs.

And then, the ground is swept out from beneath her feet and there it is—the boat.

* * *

 

He makes promises she knows in her heart he cannot keep. Her heroes never keep their promises, intentionally or not, and Leo Valdez is no different than the countless others.

Still, she feels the burn of hope in her throat when he stands there before her, the boat tugging rocking, ready to leave. Calypso sees sadness in his eyes and she is lost again, fallen in love like a hopeless fool and she almost says, _please come back for me._

Instead, she kisses him, swallowing more of his promises.

* * *

 

He is a spot on the horizon when she feels it, the wind whipping around her and crying the tears on her face. He breath is lost in it, her heart pumping fast against her ribcage and _I swear on the River Styx,_ the wind carries his voice, like he is still there beside her.

Calypso looks at the sky, looks beyond it. She does not plead, or beg, or ask any favors. The gods can do nothing for her, but perhaps…

Perhaps Leo Valdez is different.

 


End file.
